Nightlight
by what'scookingoodlookins
Summary: Brittany joins the LAVTF to rescue her friend Sam from vamp-jail, while 'working' there she encounters an extremely powerful, sexy vampire. Brittana in a True Blood 'verse, this story is basically canon with season 6 of True Blood, sides of Faberry, Samcedes. Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

A/N: hey guys, this is my first fic so go easy on me :P If all goes to plan this will be a Brittana fic, with other characters mixed up in there too, this is pretty much canon with the last series of True Blood, or at least how I remember it, anyways, enjoy!

X

Brittany stood by the empty park, bouncing on her toes with excitement. She looked up to the dark sky above her in an attempt to quell her over-enthusiasm, observing her favourite constellations. They always served to calm her when all else failed.

A sudden whooshing noise filled the air and she squealed happily as she was thrown over the broad shoulder of her best friend and spun around in a dizzying circle at unbelievable speeds.

"Sam!" she squealed, pounding his muscled shoulder pointlessly, "Sammy, put me down!"

Her feet found purchase on solid ground once more and she grinned at the boy in front of her.

"Hey Britt, did ya miss me?" he smirked at her, his huge lips stretching wide.

"Of course, I've not seen you for two whole weeks! What did Quinn want you to do this time?"

Sam was, by all standards, a young vampire, having been turned in the early 1950s. He was still tethered to his Maker, Quinn, who had been around to see the turn of more than one century.

"Ah you know I can't tell you that Britt, Quinn would kill me, or worse, order me to go back to that awful Fangtasia place." Sam shuddered at the memory, "I'm sorry I have to be away from you more now, but you know I can't help it B. Plus, this gives you a chance to actually hang out with a live person for once."

"Don't flatter yourself, I got more friends than just you." She poked out her tongue. "Hey, how's that girl you've been seeing, what was her name? Mercedes?"

Sam grinned, his face nearly splitting in half at the mention of his human girlfriend. "She's _amazing_, I like her so much B, I took her out last weekend and we went to that fancy place Breadstix, and she ordered me an A-negative! I didn't even have to ask!"

"Wow, things must be getting serious if she knows your favourite blood type," Brittany teased, nudging Sam with her hip, "I'm so happy for you Sammy, you deserve this, really." She says, her own grin spreading across her cheeks. He blushed, smiling shyly and turning his face to the ground.

A large group of intimidating people swaggered past, scowling at the pair, but Brittany didn't bat an eyelash-she knew she didn't have to, Sam had always had her back, for as long as she could remember.

_Flashback, 12 years ago_

"_See you later guys!" Brittany waved to her friends before skipping out of the park and down the street, looking forward to going home and snuggling up with her chubby new kitten, Lord Tubbington, in front of the fire. She looked to the West, seeing the Sun beginning to sink beneath the horizon. Deciding that it had been much too long since she had witnessed the beauty of a Sunset, she turned away from the direction of her house and ran wildly into some woods behind her, whooping and swinging her arms._

_She stopped at the base of a huge oak tree, whom she had named George on account of him being almost as large as her favourite Uncle, before wrapping her hands around a low hanging branch and lithely swinging up onto the ancient limb, which groaned under her slight weight._

"_Oh sorry Georgie, guess I shouldn't've had such a big lunch, huh?"_

_She continued to manoeuvre herself up her old friend, her eight year old body already deft, flexible and fast; it took mere minutes for her to be perched precariously upon the thin branches at the top. From her vantage point she could clearly see the deep orange disc dipping ever so slowly beneath the horizon, the sky around it bathed in a deep pink hue._

"_Ain't it beautiful, George? I'm so glad you're here, if it weren't for you I'd never get to see it." She twisted dangerously in her unstable seat, wrapping her pale, thin arms around the thin trunk behind her. "Thank you for being my friend, Georgie." She whispered, before relinquishing her grip and turning once more to the spectacle before her._

_Once her favourite star had finally disappeared for the day, Brittany descended and began running through the trees once more, yelling a quick goodbye over her shoulder to George._

_Finding pavement beneath her feet once more, she skidded to a stop, panting, attempting to regain her breath._

"_Well hey there, little girl, ain't it a bit late for someone as little and pretty as you to be out alone?"_

_Brittany jumped at the unexpected voice, looking up to find three huge men looming over her._

"_He's right sweet-pea," Brittany grimaced at the pet name, it felt wrong coming from such a foul man, "You never know what's out here, there's all kinda monsters and bad, bad men."_

_All three sniggered, but Brittany failed to see the joke. She had that awful feeling in her stomach, the one that meant something very bad was going to happen. She knew she needed to get out of there. She may be bottom of her class, but Brittany was a genius when it came to people, and she knew these three were the cause of her discomfort: they were dangerous._

"_Oh, I know, that's why I was heading home," she replied, proud of her voice for not wavering as she feared it may, "just over there." She nodded her head toward the house closest to her, hoping the men would believe her and not try anything, believing her family were nearby._

_The one directly in front of her leaned impossibly closer, and she found herself leaning back to escape his sneer. "Now you see I know that ain't true, sweet-pea, see that over there is my house. Why'd you lie to me, huh, kid? We won't hurt ya." The men chuckled darkly once more. "But we don't like liars."_

_His hand shot out, like a snake in the grass, and grabbed her shoulder, hard, pulling her towards him. She yelped in surprise and pain, struggling not to gag on his stench. He breathed in deeply, as if smelling her._

"_Mmm, this one should be good," he sneered once more, and Brittany gasped, seeing his canine teeth growing and growing..._

_Suddenly she was wrenched from the men, deposited back under the safety of the trees. She stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfolding before her._

"_What the fuck?!" Snarled the man who grabbed her, he and his friends spinning around, presumably looking for her and whoever had saved her (Brittany wondered, briefly, if maybe it had been George,coming to life with all his friends like in the battle of Isengard to save her, she had always thought he could be a Huorn)._

_This thought, however was short-lived, as a young man, no more than twenty, with hair and skin as pale as her own, ridiculously large lips and green eyes that flashed with anger appeared in front of the man._

_Brittany couldn't help but cry out in despair; the young man was both outnumbered and outweighed, he stood no chance. This observation was further proved when hooting laughter rose up to the dark sky from her three attackers._

"_Shit, it's Evans!" laughed their leader, "Oh man, this is rich! What, Fabitch couldn't show up herself so she sent her little lapdog instead! Pathetic!"_

_The smaller man seemed completely unphased by the insults being thrown his way and his hopeless situation. "You guys aren't being careful. There have been sightings, missing people, bodies, all within a one mile radius! And you know," He stepped forward nose to chin with the larger man, "You _know _how my Maker feels about targeting children, you sick fuck."_

_And suddenly, in the blink of an eye, all three men were lying on the ground, screaming and writhing with pain. Brittany could see the metallic glint of what appeared to be jewellery lying on the steaming chests of the floored men._

"_You were on your last chance two days ago," the young man continued, now towering over the whimpering thugs, glaring at them, "and you don't get anymore than that."_

"_No,no-!"_

"_Sam, wait-!"_

_The pleads of two of the men were cut short as they both exploded into gunk and blood. The man, presumably called Sam, had, from apparently nowhere, acquired two wooden spikes. He twirled them at lightening speed in his hands, the blood that had gathered on them flying off, as he turned menacingly to the final man._

_Brittany noted, with terror and the slightest bit of grim satisfaction, that her main tormentor now lay on the ground, tears streaking his dirty, ugly face as he sobbed loudly begging for his life._

"_P-please Sam, I'll do anything! I'll give you anything! Just not the true death, please, please not the true death."_

"_You're pathetic, Ken," Sam spat the name as though it would poison him if it remained in his mouth for too long, "You could at least have the dignity to die like the man we both know you stopped being thirty years ago."_

_The man's strangled scream was cut short as Sam drove the wooden stick straight into his chest, reducing him to no more than another red mark on the path._

_He straightened slowly and turned towards her, taking slow, cautious steps. The fear that had frozen Brittany where she stood, quickly washed over her in a new wave of terror as she collapsed to the floor sobbing, back-pedalling away from the man until her back hit a tree trunk behind her._

"_A-are you going-" a huge sob rips through her throat, cutting her off, "-to kill me?" she asks, hugging her knees to her chest, her little body shaking with tears._

"_No! Oh, jeez, no I'm not going to hurt you," he crouched down a few metres in front of her and smiled gently. He slowly pulled the glove off of one of his hands and slowly held it out for her to shake. "My name's Sam Evans, what's yours little miss?"_

_Brittany stared warily down at his hand, as though it would peel off as the glove had done and attempt to smother her. "B-B-Brittany Pi-erce." She hiccuped, sniffling pitifully._

"_Well B-B-Brittany Pi-erce," he mimicked, earning his first, tiny non-smile from the small child in front of him, "how's about we get you home to your Ma and Pa? They're bound to be worried sick about you. I'll walk you home, okay? Keep you safe, just like I did back there."_

"_W-will you promise to keep me safe forever?" Brittany mewled sadly._

_Sam grinned and held out his pinky. "I promise."_

_End of flashback, Present day_

A thought struck Brittany, a memory from earlier in the day suddenly at the front of her mind. "Are you sure it's safe to be out right now Sammy? Governor Burrell put out a curfew on vamps, and bad things happen to the ones that get caught." Brittany couldn't stand the thought of losing him to some weird vamp-jail, and she unconsciously reached over and gripped his big paw in both of her hands.

Sam chuckled. "No worries Britt-Bee," he said, using her childhood nickname to soothe her, "they'll never catch me. Besides, even if they did you know Quinn would come and get me. She's the best Maker ever. Now come on, there's a store up here that sells Tru Blood."

The duo idly chat about each others lives, Brittany telling her oldest friend about how she still had no idea what to do with her life. She had been attending an arts college on a dance scholarship, but recently suffered a shoulder injury which resulted in the sudden destruction of her only dream.

Knowing how soft a topic it was for Brittany, Sam turned it around back to Governor Burrell and had a heated political discussion all the way to the convenience store.

"Look, all I'm saying is that bastards like him get away with murder. Fucking murder, Britt! Literally! The lot of them should be burnt alive, see how they like it!"

"Don't fight fire with fire, Sam, violence never solves anything. Lord Tubbington told me that when he was reminiscing about his gang days last night. Stay here and I'll go get you some A-neg." She disappeared into the store, leaving Sam with a pat on his shoulder and an amused smile playing at his lips. Brittany truly did say the craziest things.

Sam walked Brittany home, downing a bottle of Tru Blood as he walked, only half listening to his friend nattering on about her cat.

"I mean, you'd thing he'd have learned by now. He's got emphysema for crying out loud, yet he continues to smoke! Tubbs just doesn't listen-"

Brittany was cut off by the obnoxiously loud roar of an engine as a huge metal truck skidded to a halt only a couple of feet in front of them. Six members of the Louisiana Vampire Task Force leapt from the truck and surrounded her and Sam, guns pointed at them.

"Fanger or human?" Barks one of them.

Sam pushed Brittany behind him, snarling slightly.

"He's got Tru Blood, he's a fanger!" a shot rang out and Sam plummeted to the ground, screaming in agony.

"Oh my God, Sam!" Brittany cried, collapsing beside her fallen friend.

"She said God, she's clear. Get him in the back."

Brittany was roughly pulled away from Sam, who was groaning in pain on the floor. One member of the LAVTF shackled him and three roughly manhandled him into the back of the truck.

"What are you staring at?" Snapped one of the men, "Get outta here, fang-banger, or I'll fuck you up too!"

Brittany struggled to fight against the guard holding her back. "Sam! SAM!"

"Brittany!" cried a voice, much too high pitched to be Sam's. "Brittany you can't help him now." She felt a gentle hand circle her wrist. "Brittany please come with me, we can't stay here."

Brittany allowed herself to be dragged away from the guards, the van, and the best friend who had protected her for twelve years.

X

If you feel like it, let me know what you thought :) Have a nice day!


	2. Chapter 2

Brittany found herself strapped into the passenger seat of a car, looking out at the world that passed in a blur. She didn't know how she got there; what she was doing; where she was going or even who the person beside her was. And, quite frankly, she didn't care.

She stared at the pane of glass, looking but not seeing. Her mind was focussed on what had happened what felt like years ago, her heart travelling in the back of an army-issued, vampire-holding van, crying silently beside her whimpering best friend, headed to nowhere and everywhere.

_Where were they taking Sam? What was going to happen to him? Would they hurt him? Could she have done more to help?_

_Would she ever see him again?_

"Brittany? Britt! Hello!"

She was roughly yanked from her reverie by a shrill voice and a too warm hand tugging insistently on her arm.

She slowly turned her head to the side and was met with wide, concerned eyes.

"I said, are you okay? What happened back there? Why was Sam out after curfew? He knows, he _knows_ that he should stay inside after dark, what was he thinking? Lord only knows where on Earth they've taken him, I hear those LVF people are awful, truly, truly awful to vampires, they're all mini, trigger-happy Governor Burrells. I do hope they're kind to Sam, he's one of the nicest people I've ever met, though granted he isn't really a person per say-"

"Shit, Rachel!" Brittany exclaimed, finally pushed over the edge by her room mate's endless ramblings, "Would you just be quiet, for two fucking seconds? Please?"

Rachel sat there, mouth opening and closing a few times, aghast, resembling Brittany's old goldfish after Tubbs knocked over its tank and then sat on it, rendered speechless by Brittany's choice of vocabulary. She never, ever swore, not even when she found out she could no longer dance professionally, and here she had just swore at Rachel, twice. She was shocked into silence.

"We need to go see Quinn," says Brittany, bobbing her head at the idea, "Yes we should definitely go to her, she'll know what to do, she always knows what to do."

Rachel's mouth opened impossibly wider, this time staying open, wide enough to drive a train through.

After a moment, she struggled to find her voice. "Q-Quinn? Brittany, are you sure? I mean she's-"

"I know she's dangerous Rach, but she's the only one who'll know what to do." Brittany turned to ward her for the first time, and Rachel could clearly see the tears shining in her eyes, fear and anguish lighting the electric blue on fire.

Rachel swallowed and slowly nodded her head. It was devastating to see her best friend in so much barely contained pain. "Tell me where."

Twenty minutes, six wrong turns and a fair few awkward silences later, their car crawled its way up a gravelly driveway. Despite their desperate situation, both girls stared wide-eyed at the house-no, _mansion_-before them.

"Are you sure we're at the right place? This looks more like Barbra Streisand's Barn!"

Brittany shook her head slightly, clearing away her awe and replacing it with grim determination. "I don't know what that is. Now come on, we're not here for the house." She pulled Rachel, who was still staring in wonder at the house, up the front steps and over to the huge, wooden door.

Before they could knock, however, the door was slowly pulled open by a pale, thin man with two neat little holes in the side of his neck.

"Miss Fabray has been expecting you." He monotones. "Follow me."

The man led them through a dark, ominous corridor, coming to an abrupt halt in front of a door at the end of the corridor. He rapped his knuckles smartly against the door. Brittany turned towards it as a faint 'come in' could be heard. She found herself suddenly unsure of whether this was such a good idea. _Sam, _she mentally scolds herself, _this is for him, now grow a pair, Pierce!_

She turned to the man to ask if it was okay to enter, but realised he was no longer, appearing to have dissipated as though he were no more than a wisp of smoke.

"I think we should do as she says, Brittany," Rachel whispered, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather like to survive this encounter."

Clenching her jaw in an attempt to regain her long forgotten bravery, Brittany reached out a shaking hand, opened the door and took a tentative step inside the room.

She was surprised to see a cosy little room. There was a cream coloured wall opposite her, shrouded in shadows cast by a large fire place, the flames dancing in the new, unexpected breeze, as though they were excited to have more people to warm. After a small nudge from Rachel, she walked a little further, surrounded by cute, fit to bursting little bookshelves, arranged against the walls in a semi-circle around a light green, floral-print three-piece suite. Lounging across the settee, dressed in a light yellow sundress, lay a pretty blonde-haired girl, reading _Great Expectations, _looking for all the world like an innocent, church-going schoolgirl.

The girl raised a delicate finger, silently asking them to wait, as she finished her paragraph. Brittany looked behind her at Rachel,who was wearing an identical expression of bewilderment. Was this some kind of joke? Who was this girl? Where was the real Quinn Fabray? And how, in a month of Sundays, could some stupid book be more important than Sam?

The girl slid a bookmark into her page, gently resting it atop a pile of other classics before her on the intricately carved mahogany coffee table. "Come." Said the girl, gesturing to the armchairs on either side of her, still not looking at her two guests. "Sit."

There was a quiet tone of authority in her delicate voice, something which compelled her to do as she was commanded, and convinced her that this was definitely Quinn.

When Rachel and herself were properly seated, Brittany turned toward Quinn, awaiting permission to speak. She had a sneaky suspicion that the girl was a stickler for tradition, and expected respect from people, especially when they were under her roof.

"Let me properly introduce myself," she said, with an unexpectedly warm smile, which Brittany felt obligated to return, spreading across her face. "My name is Quinn Fabray. You must be Samuel's friend Brittany."

Brittany's face fell at the mention of her captured friend's name. Quinn noticed this and tilted her head slightly in thought. Her eyes narrowed slightly in thought, before she let out a quiet sigh and sat forward, leaning her forearms on her knees. "He's been taken by Burrell, hasn't he?"

Brittany looked at Quinn quizzically, interested to know how on Earth she had known that.

It seemed Rachel shared that sentiment. "Excuse me, Miss Fabray, but how did you know that? I only ask because, well, Brittany and I have only just arrived and made no mention of the fact that we were here because of Sam, and we certainly didn't suggest that he had been captured. Which is, incidentally, true, but that is beside the point."

Brittany mentally palmed her forehead and groaned inwardly. Rachel genuinely did not know when to shut up, _ever_, even, apparently, in the presence of an extremely old and powerful vampire. Quinn however did not seem to mind and simply turned to Rachel with a tired smile. This only confused Brittany further as she didn't think it was physically possible for a vampire to be tired. It was then she realised it was because Quinn was worried about her progeny, and Brittany found herself liking the girl more and more.

"Brittany is Samuel's best friend, and our first meeting is without him, despite the fear that I obviously cause her. She is here, blatantly distressed, visiting me in my own home, again unescorted by Sam." She pauses and begins, quite oddly Brittany thinks, at the air. "Not to mention the fact that it is a mere twenty-five minutes before dawn, and Sam has failed to return home. It was not that difficult to deduce what had happened." She turned back to Brittany. "What exactly transpired tonight, my dear?"

Brittany relayed the tale of Sam's capture, with the occasional interjection from Rachel, and Quinn listened attentively throughout. When she finished, she asked Quinn in a small, helpless voice, "Is there anything we can do?"

Quinn smiled warmly once again, though this time her green eyes were hard with worry, the smile only making them seem colder. Brittany couldn't help but shrink back a little. "I may have concocted a small plan. But I don't think you're going to like it."

* * *

Rachel walked slowly down the street, the buckles on her shoes shining in the dim orange glow of the street light above her. Each step she took was jittery, and she had pushed her hands deep into he pockets of her apple red woollen coat in an attempt to stop them shaking.

She glanced around nervously, wondering why the hell she agreed to be the bait in Quinn's ridiculous plan. _If we all survive this,_ she thought bitterly_, they will both be subjected to a marathon of Barbra's finest works, and I will use the sing-a-long versions! Not that that would be much of a punishment; more a privilege, really._

Rachel looked up and spotted a couple of members of the LAVTF lounging on the trunk of their patrol jeep. She slowed her pace even more, inching her way across the cracked pavement, fidgeting, waiting.

A sudden pain struck through Rachel's back as something heavy knocked her to the ground, her chin striking the path painfully. She cried out in pain and fear as she was lifted by the scruff of her neck and slammed against the side of the Land Rover behind her.

She found herself face to face with a snarling vampire, her eyes widening on seeing the gleaming pointed canines.

"Don't you just look good enough to eat." Growled the vampire, but all Rachel could focus on were the huge, razor sharp teeth that were centimetres away from her throat...

And then the weight was gone, and Rachel looked down, startled, to see the vampire lying on the ground, straddled by her saviour.

Quinn snarled up at Brittany, not daring to move-she could feel the point of the stake digging into the skin on her chest. Any sudden movement on her part and she could very well meet her Maker. Not the fat creep Finn who turned her because he couldn't find anyone who would willingly sleep with him, but the bringer of the true death.

"Don't even try to move, you disgusting vamper." snapped Brittany, ripping her necklace from around her throat and throwing it at Quinn, the silver of the chain immediately burning through her skin. Quinn screamed in pain, the smell of burning flesh pervading her nose.

A low whistle of appreciation came from someone above her, though Quinn didn't know who; her face was contorted in pain, eyes scrunched tightly shut. "You got that bitch good, kid. You're a freaking hero!" Quinn felt the weight on her stomach lift, but she couldn't move so much as an inch-the delicate chain felt like a tonne of bricks on her neck. If she still had to breathe, she would have suffocated long ago, her windpipe was well and truly crushed.

"What that?" She heard a snort. "Please, that was nothin'. I once saved these kids from four huge vampers, and I lopped the heads of the lot of 'em! This one's pathetic." The person, who was apparently illiterate, spat out, and Quinn felt the glare sent her way.

"Wow." One man sounded thoroughly impressed, "four of 'em? With just you? That's pretty damn good, girl. We could use more like you on the Force."

Quinn slowly peeled her eyes open, struggling to concentrate with the intense agony stemming from her throat, burning through her whole body. She watched through blurred eyes as Brittany's face lit up.

"Really?!" The girl sounded beyond excited. "You really think I'm good enough to join the Force? I mean you guys are pros, by far the awesomest vampire hunters _ever_." She gushed.

If Quinn weren't in such pain, she would have snorted. But it had been a very long time since she last encountered silver, and she had forgotten just how ridiculously excruciating it really was. She pondered, briefly, whether the true death would be less painful.

The other man's chest puffed out with pride and a grin spread across his face. "We sure are, ma'am, but lemme tell you a coupla the grunts wouldn't be able to take down four fangers in one go. You got some real talent here, we'd hate it to go to waste."

"How's about you come with us to the compound, and we'll introduce ya to our boss?" Suggested the first. "I'm sure he'd love to meet someone as talented as you, 'specially if you ain't even been trained yet."

Quinn closes her eyes once more and sighs with relief as she hears Brittany excitedly chatting about how it had been her dream to kick all vampires' asses ever since they first came out of the coffin, and she knows everything is going according to plan.

* * *

Brittany can't help the shudder that ripples through her body as they approach the compound. It looked like some creepy lab from a bad horror film, filled with the results of experiments gone wrong. They're stopped by five LAVTF guards, armed to the teeth, before being allowed to pull up beside one of the white, round buildings.

The two guys she's been travelling with climb out of the jeep with her, one opening the back seat and yanking Quinn out roughly by her hair. Having been shackled with silver handcuffs at the beginning of the journey, Quinn seemed awfully helpless. Not that she would even think of looking that way. Brittany smiled inwardly at the haughty, devil-may-care look Quinn was sporting, despite being held by the hair so hard it was nearly coming out in one large clump.

Brittany was suddenly, exceptionally pleased that Sam was lucky enough to get someone as strong and amazing as Quinn for his Maker.

"Azzy's gonna take the vamper through to to cells." Explained the one who drove them, Brittany thought he was called Stick or Dick or something.

"Catch you later, Rick! Have fun with the boss, Pierce! And welcome to the best place on Earth!" Called the one who still had a hold of Quinn, his name was Azimio. He strode off, dragging an aloof-looking Quinn behind him.

Rick led Brittany through a door in the side of the building they were next to, down a long, well-guarded corridor and through into a meeting room. Brittany settled into one of the uncomfortable leather seats, distantly thinking of how much Rachel would hate this room for all the unnecessary suffering it must have caused to innocent cows. Brittany hated it simply because nasty, old men sat in here to discuss the best way to hurt innocent people.

_No, _Brittany scolded herself_, stick to what Quinn told you! Vampires are ungodly, murdering creatures that are on this Earth solely to bring about the demise of the human race._

_I don't really know what that last sentence means._

_Neither do I, something about hurting humans. Whatever, it doesn't matter, just think anti-vampire._

A well-dressed man entered the room, flanked by two guards. He introduced himself and fired a bunch of questions at Brittany. They were all really easy, must simpler than the maths problems she struggled so much with in school.

"Vampires. What basic knowledge do you have of their various characteristics, abilities, weaknesses, etc.?"

Brittany answered according to the script Quinn made her memorise back at the mansion.

"All of them. Characteristics: pale, cold, no breath, come in all shapes and sizes. Abilities: strong, sonic hearing, fast, some of them can even fly. Weaknesses: silver, UV light, fire, wood to the heart – stake or bullet, it doesn't matter, or, my personal favourite, simply cutting their head right off by the throat."

"Huh, that's...impressive. And how many vampers would you say you've killed?"

"What, this week? Can't be more than seven."

Suffice to say, the man seemed quite awed by her.

After the interview, she was escorted around the living quarters she would be accommodating during her stay at the LAVTF.

After that, she was given her gear, tested in the shooting range (after her traumatising encounter as a child, her mother insisted on her learning how to defend herself, and at the age of sixteen was given a gun and told to only use it in an emergency. Brittany figured that this definitely counted.) She passed with flying colours, and within the hour she was given her first assignment.

"So this is pretty simple, you just gotta take the fanger from their cage, through to the experimentation room that their due in. This one's a level one vamp, mind so watch her, she's aggressive. But don't get your panties in a twist, Pierce," he winked, misinterpreting Brittany's shiver of disgust at the word 'experimentation' as one of fear. "Me 'n Z have got your back."

"Alright, this is Gen Pop 1. We'll get her out for you, just watch 'n learn."

"Alright, you!" Called Azimio, unlocking the wire mesh doors and striding into the room, pointing a pudgy finger in the direction of one of the vamps, who was sitting with her back to him. "Lopez, get up!"

The girl turns slowly and glares at Azimio, a look acidic enough to melt stone. Despite the scowl etched into the latina's features, Brittany can't help but think she's the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. Possibly the most beautiful_ thing, _period. Her flawless, caramel skin; long, silky, jet black hair; big, deep brown eyes and those soft, pouty lips...Brittany suddenly found herself unbearably hot and uncomfortable under all her heavy gear.

"Listen, you fucking troll," the girl (Lopez?) snapped, "I'm really not in the mood for some asshole neanderthal to try and order me about. Let's see if this gets through your thick, thick skull into your useless brain, _you don't fucking own me. _ Now leave me the hell alone, before I fuck you up." Despite the venomous words, her voice was as incredibly beautiful as she was, with a slight raspy quality, that only added to her sexiness and mystery.

Azimio visibly swallowed, his hand falling back to his side. In an attempt to regain his composure, he sneered, though it looked much more like a pained grimace from where Brittany was standing. "Look Lopez, you either come with us, or we shoot you up with a little silver and UV then drag you outta here."

"Go for it," replied Lopez, nonchalantly, turning back around (Brittany couldn't help but feel disappointed at losing her view). "I've been meaning to work on my tan anyway."

The rest of the vampires around her laughed at her antics. "Haway, San," came a deep voice from the crowd. A tall, muscly, mohawked boy stepped forth and placed his huge hand on her shoulder. "May as well get it over with."

Lopez glowered at the boy, looking as though she were about to retort, but he bent closer and whispered something into her ear, and suddenly she was smirking and, ignoring his proffered hand and standing up without assistance. She turned and sauntered towards them, Rick immediately pointing his gun at her chest.

"Don't think aiming there is gonna make it anymore acceptable for you to stare at my breasts, fuckface," said the girl, rolling her eyes. "I don't think I've had you before."

It took Brittany a second to realise she was addressing her. "Oh, um, no, no you haven't. I,uh, just started today. I'm Brittany."

The girl arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Brittany's stuttering, and she could feel a blush crawling up her cheeks. She was suddenly gad for the huge goggles, because they stopped her face from being to visible.

The two made eye contact for the very first time, and Brittany struggled to contain her gasp. Those eyes, they were the deepest brown she had ever seen, reminiscent of, Brittany thought, a chocolate fondue.

"Well hello Brittany. I'm Santana Lopez."

* * *

And so they've met, dun dun dun.

Drop a review if you feel like it, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And don't worry, Santana will be in more chapters soon.

Please let me know if you've spotted any mistakes :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: minor character death, though you probably won't care 'cause he's an asshole character.**

* * *

Brittany trailed behind her two colleagues, only half-listening to their idle chatting. She was much too busy focusing on the swinging hips in front of her to care much for their talk.

"Alright vamper, here we are. We set up a little play-date for you and one of your 'friends'." Azimio said, waving with his gun to the large steel door they were stood before, "Now Pierce, you and The Stick are gonna head through to the observation room, I'mma take Lopez."

Brittany frowned, unsure of who this Stick person was. She hoped they were nice. Rick led her a few metres down the hall and held his wrist before a small metal control panel, causing part of the wall to slide back, creating a doorway. Brittany blinked, surprised, and followed Rick into the room.

It was quite large, a raincloud-grey colour, containing three desk chairs. These were tucked under a long desk, with a microphone and a mug of steaming coffee sat in the middle. Over this table was a huge window, looking into a bare white room. _Well, at least they used a different colour for once, _thought Brittany. She was really quite sick of the same miserable grey coating everything. All the colours in the godforsaken facility were dull and sad, in a deliberate attempt to pass this off as a sterile, humane science research facility. Brittany had been here a grand total of five minutes, and she was already sickened by this place. She hadn't even viewed an experiment yet.

"Take a seat, Pierce." Rick gestured to one of the chairs in front of her. "The bossman will be through in a sec."

Brittany did as she was told and stared out the window. One of the doors embedded in the pure white wall slid upwards, revealing Santana in all her jump suited glory. Azimio stood behind her and prodded her in the back with the muzzle of his rifle. Santana scowled and looked as though she wanted to snap at him again, but decided against it and did as she was directed.

The door behind Brittany whooshed open, revealing the well-dressed man from earlier in the evening. She couldn't quite put her finger on his name, Cougar Jenkins or something.

"Hey there Brittany, fancy meeting you here!" He chuckled at his own awful joke, lumbering over to take the seat beside her. Brittany simply smiled by way of greeting. She didn't like this Cougar guy, she didn't like the glint in his beady little pig eyes, and she despised the way her name sounded when he said it. It was almost like a growl, as though he owned her. When Santana said it, it glided through her flawless, pouty lips, soft and gentle like marshmallow fluff...Brittany mentally shook herself. This was a dangerous vampire. She should not be feeling this way about her, she was supposed to look out for Sam and protect him until Quinn busted him out, and that was _it._ If only Santana wasn't so damn perfect.

"Mr Menkins, sir, Governor Burrell sends his apologies but, since he went into hiding and all, he can't make it today."

Cougar sighed audibly, shaking his head. "That useless pussy." He clapped his hands together loudly, causing Brittany to jump about three feet into the air, before rubbing them together, an almost hungry look of anticipation on his pudgy face. "Alright then, let's get this show on the road."

The door Santana exited from a few minutes ago opened once more. Brittany struggled to stifle a gasp as Quinn stepped gracefully through the door. The petite girl was dressed in the same shapeless prison jumpsuit as all the other vampires, and Brittany found herself missing the old lady dress that Quinn had been wearing before.

As soon as Santana saw Quinn, a lazy smile spread across her face. As sexy as Santana's angry face was, when she smiled like this her beauty became infinite. It appeared to have no bounds, and the more Brittany learned about the way Santana was, the more she found herself drawn to this undead enigma. Brittany felt a tugging at the corners of her own lips and struggled to force back the smile threatening to form there.

"Well hey there Q, it's been too long." Santana turned fully to face her fellow vampire, and was swept up immediately into a bone-crushing hug.

"It's so good to see you, Santana!" Quinn pulled back from the hug, beaming. "It's been, what? Twenty five years? We should really talk more often, San. I've missed you."

"Don't go getting all sentimental on me Fabray, you'll ruin my rep. Didn't you hear? I'm a badass vampire bitch, and I run this motherfucking freakshow now." The grin that Santana couldn't seem to hide belied her words, and she pulled Quinn back in for another hug. "But I've missed you too, Blondie."

"Now ladies, I hate to interrupt," Cougars voice boomed obnoxiously through the old friends' reunion, and Brittany turned to see him leaning over the desk, spitting into the microphone. "but we got work to do. Our psychologist, Terri Del Monico, wants to see the extent of the relationship between two non-related vamps." He shrugged. "Personally, I just wanna see two vamps rip the shit out of each other. So, off you go. Fight."

Brittany frowned. This did not sound like a legitimate experiment. At all.

Santana seemed to disapprove of this idea as much as Brittany did. "Um, no fucking way, Jeffrey Dahmer. That ain't happening. You can shove that idea right up your ass, then get one of your little whore lapdogs to lick it back out for you."

"Santana," said Quinn in a warning voice. "That was crude, and wholly unnecessary."

Santana rolled her eyes. "See, this is why we don't hang out anymore Quinn. You talk and act like an eighty year old virgin. You're really uptight, you need to get laid. Puck's in here too if you wanna hook up with him. I know how well you two used to get along." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Quinn just glared back at her.

Cougar cleared his throat. "Fight, or there'll be consequences. _Painful _consequences." He said, scowling, in a supposedly threatening voice. Brittany thought he just seemed constipated.

Santana scoffed and held her arms wide, as though awaiting an embrace. "Bring it the fuck on, Ted Bundy, see if it makes a difference. I know you want to, you do jerk off to this sort of shit, don't you?"

Brittany was slightly confused, what was this guys real name? She thought he was called Cougar, but the vampire kept calling him different things. She wondered if he was the Stick, or if she just hadn't met that guy yet.

Cougar bristled in irritation, and pressed a button on the desk. A spotlight of sunshine shot through the sky and hit Santana on the arm. She doubled over in pain and yelped. Even though it had lasted a mere two seconds at most, Santana's skin was bright red and blistered, with smoke rising from it. "Son of a bitch." Santana growled, rubbing at her arm, which was already healing.

"Well, maybe if you weren't so rude all the time, this wouldn't happen." Said Quinn with a triumphant smirk. Santana glared at her.

"No I don't need any help, Q, I'm fine. Thanks for the sympathy though." Santana said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and inspecting her fully healed skin. She looked up to the window and took a few steps forward, somehow knowing precisely where to look for Cougar. "You can blast me all you like, Cooter"-Cooter! _That_ was his name!-"But I'm still not gonna kick my best friend's ass after seeing her for the first time in a quarter of a century just so you can get your rocks off, John Wayne Gacy, I ain't your bitch. Now why don't you crawl back off to the morgue and find yourself a coupla nice bodies to stick your dinky, dumpy dick into? If you can even find it under all that fat."

Cooter looked quite put out by the multiple blow to his ego, but apparently he had some nice, cold revenge to dish out to the vampire. "I thought you might say that, so I came up with an ingenious idea to persuade you. Bring him through, Goolsby."

The door opened once more, revealing yet another LAVTF officer, with the mohawked vampire Brittany saw earlier standing in front of him. The officer gave the vampire a shove that would have sent any human sprawling, but the vampire barely reacted. He simply pursed his lips in slight annoyance and walked forward. He examined the room he had just entered, and when his eyes landed on Quinn, they lit up.

"Lady Fabray, damn is it good to see you." He said, eyes running shamelessly up and down her body.

Quinn just rolled her eyes good-humouredly, and strode forward to embrace the tall boy. He had to be at least four inches taller than her, and had to bend a little to hug her back properly. "It's good to see you, Puck. Truly. I was worried you'd manage to get yourself killed."

Puck was about to respond, but was cut off by Cooter. "Again, the reunion is touching, really, but enough of it. Lopez, do you still refuse to fight Fabray?"

Puck smirked suddenly. "You guys brought me in here so I could watch a catfight? Awesome! I can't frigging wait to see these two hot pieces of ass writhing around on the-"

"Puck!" Quinn shouted, appalled, "Santana is your _sister._ That's-that's disgusting! It's like incest!"

Santana, to her credit, was perfectly calm, if anything she seemed rather bored by the whole exchange. "We're not technically related, Quinnie. If you're going to look at it like that then your relationship with Finnocense was a whole new level of sick."

Quinn glared at Santana, and Brittany wondered how their friendship was healthy-if she didn't know any better, she'd think they hated each other. "Entirely different situation and you know it."

"Where is Foetus Face these days, anyway? I haven't seen his flabby white ass in a while." said Santana, plopping herself down on the ground and leaning against the wall, inspecting her nails.

"I don't know, I left that creep the second he released me." She looked down at Santana and smiled gratefully. "Thanks for that, by the way. I thought I was going to be his slave forever. I probably would be, if it weren't for you." Brittany mentally filed that bit of information away, deciding to ask Sam about it later if she saw him.

Santana waved the thanks away. "Don't worry about it, Tubbers. That was a hundred years ago."

Cooter interrupted their conversation, again, and Brittany felt a little irked. These three were interesting, she could have happily watched them interact for a good long time, and did Cooter have to be so damn rude? They obviously had some catching up to do. "Alright, I'm tired of waiting. Take the shot, Coleman."

A small panel in the curved white wall slid back, revealing the muzzle of one of the rifles. A shot rang out, and then a scream of pain. Puck fell to the ground, clutching his stomach.

"Holy shit!" He screamed, hands cupping the bleeding wound. "HOLY FUCKING SHIT, THAT HURTS! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!"

Quinn stared down at Puck, mortified, mouth agape. She stood there uselessly as Santana calmly strode forward and knelt next to her brother.

"Stop moving Puck, and for the love of sex, shut up." She commanded, leaning over him slightly. He continued to writhe and scream beneath her. "Hey! I said: Shut. The. Fuck up. And. Stay. Still." She growled, low and threatening, in such a way that poor Puck, who must surely have been in agony, stilled immediately and set his mouth in a pained grimace, with only the occasional whimper escaping.

"Why's he in so much pain?" Brittany questioned, confused. She knew that, unless they were shot in the heart with a wooden bullet, being shot was more of a nuisance to vampires than anything else.

"We got some special bullets," Cooter explained, staring at the scene before him with glee, leaning forward in his excitement. "They're silver, with UV rays shining out of 'em. Painful as fuck for the fangers."

Brittany stared at Puck, feeling a wave of sympathy for him, and a wave of nausea for humans. _People are the real monsters, s_he thought, looking at Cooter, who really did appear as though he were 'getting his rocks off'.

"Now," he said to the vampires, "Y'all can do as you're damn well told, or we'll be shooting that ugly bastard up until he's more silver than vamper."

In the white room, however, no-one seemed to much care for Cooter's words. Puck was in too much pain to listen; Quinn was still in a state of shock; and Santana straight-up ignored him, examining Puck's wound.

"Now Puck, this is gonna hurt like a bitch, even more than that time I ripped your balls off when you crashed my motorbike and killed my favourite blood donor, back in '68. But you're just gonna have to deal with it, okay?" She paused, as though waiting for a response that she knew wasn't coming, before taking his hand in her own. He immediately gripped it tight enough to turn his knuckles white. "Just squeeze my hand, okay? It'll help."

She turned toward Quinn, who was still standing in her catatonic state, obviously having never witnessed the use of the awful new equipment the LAVTF had managed to get a hold of. "Quinn!" She barked, causing the other vampire to jump and look at her, looking panic-stricken and prone to a breakdown at any given moment. It was the least composed that Brittany had ever seen her, and she realised that maybe Quinn wasn't as prepared for this as she had first seemed. "Get the fuck over here, will you?"

Quinn scurried over and sat by Santana, looking at her and awaiting instruction.

"Hold the wound open, okay?"

Quinn nodded, leaning forward and holding the flesh around the bloody bullet hole, stretching it and opening the wound even further, causing Puck to yelp and squeeze Santana's hand tighter. Brittany couldn't help but flinch when she heard the bones in Santana's hand breaking. The vampire, however, still remained cool and indifferent, as though her hand was not being crushed and her brother was not in agony. Her dark eyes flashed with pain and the slightest hint of fear when she had a better look at the injury, but it was gone in an instant, and her eyes once more reflected her calm demeanour.

"Alright, I'm going in." She looked at Puck's face, which was contorted with torment, her eyes softening in empathy, before gently easing her thumb and index finger into the wound. Puck hissed in pain, his back arching off the ground, and gripped her hand impossibly tighter, the whole thing engulfed in his huge paw. The harsh crack of bones breaking and the disgusting squish of flesh moving were the only sounds to accompany Puck's various sounds of anguish.

Brittany shuddered. This was officially the worst thing she'd ever experienced-even worse than the summer she spent lost in the sewers back in high school.

Santana cried out in pain when her digits connected with the bullet, her eyes narrowing with the burning as her fingers struggled to find purchase on the accursed object. She cried out again, but this time in triumph, as she slowly eased the slug out of Puck's stomach.

Puck's entire body relaxed as the bullet left his flesh, reluctantly departing his skin with an unpleasant sucking sound. He fell back to the ground with a thud, and lay there, totally exhausted. Santana placed the bullet by her side (Brittany noticed Quinn shuffling slightly along the ground to get away from it) and ripped the bottom half of her jumpsuit top off, bunching it up and using it to wipe up Puck's stomach and plugging the wound with it, knowing it wouldn't heal for a good twenty minutes.

Brittany's jaw dropped at the sight of Santana's toned, tanned stomach, her eyes zeroing in on the abs. _I bet they feel as hard as they look,_ thought Brittany, images of various different parts of her body sliding easily over Santana's abdomen, their mixing sweat causing those tight abs to glisten-_NOT EVEN ALMOST APPRORIATE, BRITTANY. _Brittany huffed at the interruption of her vivid fantasy, but decided that her inner voice was correct, getting all hot and bothered in a small room containing her new colleague and boss was the epitome of counter-productive behaviour.

"Alright ladies, if you don't start beating the un-living shit out of each other within the next ten seconds, Coleman's gonna be pumping your little fuckbuddy full of silver."

Santana picked up the bullet and looked down at it, before slowly rising to her feet.

"10...9...8..."

Santana stood, fists clenched tightly, and nodded once at Quinn.

"7...6...5..."

Quinn followed suit, stepping over the still form of Puck, and turning to stand beside her best friend.

"4...3..."

Santana raised her fist.

"2..."

"One." Santana growled lowly, throwing her arm forward and opening her fist. The bullet she had been holding so firmly shot through the air, faster even than it would have left the barrel of a gun, straight through the window before her, lodging in between Cooter's eyes.

For one long, excruciatingly slow second, the large man just sat their, cock-eyed, as though he had followed the trajectory of the bullet and watched it embed in his thick, doughy forehead. And then he fell forward onto the desk, setting off an obnoxiously loud, blaring alarm. The experimentation room flooded with LAVTF guards, blocking Brittany's view of the three intriguing vampires.

But not before she caught sight of a slightly smirking Santana, shooting her the subtlest, sexiest wink Brittany had ever had the pleasure of receiving.

* * *

A/N: In case you were wondering, I chose Cooter to be evil and die, because I severely dislike his character. Also, the names Santana was calling him are the names of various different psychopath serial killers.

Hope you continue to enjoy this story, if there's anything you'd like to see happen just let me know what it is and I'll try and put it in the next couple of chapters :) I'll hopefully have the next one up before Wednesday, but don't hold me to that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this took so long to update guys, GCSEs are a bitch :(**

**There's some aspects of this chapter that I ain't happy with, I'm sorry they suck so bad**

**And I'm also sorry this is so much smaller than the others, I just wanted to get something published. I am full of apologies today**

**But anywho, enjoy!**

"Pierce! _Pierce!"_

It took Brittany a moment to remember that she was now 'Pierce'. She was extremely disoriented, and had been standing uselessly in the middle of the control room as all hell broke loose around her.

Through in the other room, Puck had been forced to his feet and was being held up by three LAVTF officers, clutching his slowly closing wound. Quinn was being pushed against the wall, two rifles pointed at her chest and several arms holding her in place, even though she stood calmly watching the scene before her unfold.

Santana was in the middle of the room surrounded by ten or so guards. At least half of these were dead-she was a whirlwind of destruction, nails and fangs slicing through those closest to her. Bullets flew around her but she either failed to notice or didn't care. It's not like she needed to worry-none were even close to hitting her.

It was dreadful in the most beautiful way.

"Pierce, come _on_, they need us in there!" Brittany finally listened to the man incessantly tugging on the strap of her rifle and followed him. They raced from the room, down the short corridor and burst through the already opened door. Brittany ran straight into one of the officers already in the over-crowded space, pushing him forward and into the path of Hurricane Santana. He was subsequently ripped apart, his entrails adding some badly-needed colour to the room. Brittany cringed slightly, knowing that that was kind of her fault. _Sorry Azimio, but you were kind of a mean guy anyways._

She looked forward and saw Santana standing leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette and holding the trembling body of a guard before her. Brittany marvelled at how casual and unaffected she appeared, at least until she was distracted by the way the smoke gently curled out from between those plush, pink lips.

"Alright, Ku Klux Klan, I'll make a deal with ya'll. Don't shoot my sexy ass and I'll let the rest of you live." She took a deep drag on her cigarette, reducing half of it down to ash immediately. "Sound fair?" She raised an eyebrow, plumes of smoke twisting to the sky with her words. Brittany couldn't have torn her gaze away even if she wanted to.

All of the guards looked around at each other, rifles levelled at their whimpering colleague and the vampire behind him, unsure what to do without the presence of a leader. Brittany mused that they must have all been annihilated by now.

Santana rolled her eyes, exasperated by the lack of intelligence in this recent, hateful generation. "It's not fucking rocket science, you useless twats. Do you want to live or not?"

Brittany frowned at the officers, who all looked as confused as she did during her SATs. Weren't they supposed to be the ones in charge here? Maybe they just couldn't concentrate with that silly alarm blaring over and over again.

Realising it would only be a matter of time before more of the LAVTF arrived, Brittany decided to intervene. There was no way of knowing what would happen to Santana and Quinn if back up arrived.

Brittany cleared her throat quietly and took a deep breath in to prepare herself. She did not do well talking to crowds. Singing and dancing she could do, but talking? A much different, more difficult kettle of fish.

"Alright!" She barked authoritatively, her voice deeper and gruffer than it had ever been. She realised she sounded a lot like her dad, and this made her chest swell with pride, and spurred her on. "That deal works out well, let, uh, that guy go and I'll take you to the solitary block."

Everyone in the room looked at Brittany, shocked, most because they didn't know who she was. Quinn, however, smiled, knowing she wouldn't hurt her best friend.

"Okay then, kid," Santana smirked, and Brittany could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as the vampire's dark eyes alighted on hers. She stubbed her cigarette out on the helmet of the guy she was holding and dropped him to the floor, resting her foot on the side of his neck.

Brittany pushed her way through the crowd and stood before Santana. In a show of good faith, Brittany laid her rifle on the floor and held her hands up in the universal sign for peace.

Santana's smirk grew into a wicked grin and she pushed off of the guard on the floor and walked towards Brittany. She debated whether or not to hold Santana's arm and escort her properly, but she had a feeling that the vampire would rip her head off before she could say 'rainbows', so she kept her hands by her side.

The crowd of officers parted like the Red Sea, and she and Santana easily make their way out into the hallway.

"Um..." Brittany looked around, confusion furrowing her brow. She was glad the goggles hid that from Santana. "You don't happen to know where solitary confinement is...do you?" She asked hopefully.

And for the first time, Brittany got to hear Santana laugh. And it reminded her of sunshine and starry nights and ice cream by the duck pond. She vowed to always strive to hear that laugh, as often and for as long as humanly possible.

"You are something else, risa." Brittany felt the butterflies in her stomach positively explode with happiness. Lucky for you I know my way around this place pretty well, follow me." Santana turned away and started down the corridor, hips swaying torturously. Brittany stumbled over herself in her haste to follow.

The next few minutes passed in what Brittany mournfully realised was an uncomfortable silence. The blasted alarm had, mercifully, stopped blaring, but that only made the silence even more deafening. But, try as she might, Brittany could not come up with anything even mildly intelligent to say. The usually bubbly, out-going, friends-with-everything-ever girl was rendered speechless by the woman before her.

Brittany was just about to gawkily launch into a rant about Lord Tubbington's stubborn resistance to the Atkins she'd been sneaking into his puddings (it was the only topic she seemed to be able to grasp in her suddenly dry mind) when she was unexpectedly saved by Santana.

"So, _officer_," Brittany could hear the smirk in the vampire's voice and was undeniably turned on, swallowing forcibly to dislodge the arousal lighting her on fire, "how come a naïve little girl like yourself could control an entire roomful of idiotic, bigoted cocksuckers?"

Brittany blinked, struggling to figure out whether or not she was being insulted. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed before she was saved by the appearance of Rick. She never thought she'd be grateful to see that creep, but the day was proving to be full of surprises.

"Nice one, Pierce," he praised her, nodding his head, "you got some real potential, handled that like a pro. I was just, y'knaw, giving you a chance to, uh, prove yourself and shit." He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, in a pathetic attempt to appear powerful. Brittany pitied him.

Instead of pointing out the fact that he was lying, she simply beamed. "Well thanks, Rick, I appreciate it. Not many people give me a chance, and I'm real glad you did, I know you're a great guy." She was lying through her teeth, but knew that flattery and maybe a little flirting was the best way to stay here.

Her two companions actually stopped walking, both looking at her in utter shock, jaws hanging open unattractively. Apparently, that fake sentiment wasn't even shared by Rick himself. He was the first to recover (Santana looked like Brittany had when she found those leprechauns playing polo in her back yard) and grinned from ear-to-ear at the unexpected compliment. "Gee, thanks Britt!" She flinched visibly at the nickname but he didn't appear to realise, too busy handing her his rifle. "Here, you musta lost yours."

Brittany accepted it, nodding her head in thanks, and Santana finally managed to regain control of her vocal chords.

"Are you kidding? This weasel, the love child of Angus MacGyver and Beaker the Muppet, who's family tree contains so many pricks it may as well be a motherfucking cactus, is suddenly a 'great guy'?" She exclaimed incredulously, using her hands to form actual quotation marks.

Rick glared, and Brittany was glad he no longer held his gun. "Listen fanger, I ain't gotta listen to none of your shit. You ain't even supposed to be alive, you...you vampire!"

"Look asshole, if I wanted to kill myself I'd just climb your ego and jump to your IQ. But unfortunately for you, I don't see things from your fucked-up, narrow-minded point of view. I mean I'd like to, sure, but I can't seem to get my head that far up my ass. So why don't you fuck off back to the hole your poor mother abandoned you in, or are you too busy seeing if you can force more shit out your mouth in one sitting than what comes out of your ass per month?"

Rick blinked, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he had just been insulted in the most elaborate way he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

In a bizarre series of emotions, Brittany found herself inexplicably turned on, amused more than she had been in a long while, and afraid of the quick and cruel tongue that could turn on her at any moment.

Somehow managing to control her laughter, Brittany placed a placating hand on Rick's trembling shoulder. She wasn't sure if he was shaking from barely-suppressed sobs or unreleased anger.

"Rick," she cooed soothingly, "you should head back to the experimentation room, they probably need some help clearing up in there."

Releasing a shaky breath, Rick turned on his heel and marched down the corridor, swiftly fleeing the final resting place of his dignity.

As soon as he rounded the corner, Brittany doubled over in hysterics, whooping with laughter.

After a minute of struggling to quell her cries of joy, she turned to Santana, wiping tears from her eyes. "Sorry," she said, chuckling quietly, "but that was absolutely brilliant. You should insult people professionally. I'm serious, my mam told me there's a special branch of the government that come out to put nasty, self-centred people in their places. They're like the FBI, except they shoot people down with their vicious, vicious words instead of with guns."

Santana blinked at her. "O...kay, I'll keep that in mind for if my bar ever closes." She turned towards the door they were stood in front of. "All the solitary cells are taken, so I guess I'mma have to bunk with some other son of a bitch."

"Isn't solitary supposed to be something you play by yourself? You'd need an extra deck of cards for anyone else to join in." She said, straight-faced.

Santana narrowed her eyes at her, before seeing that little glint of humour in her eye, the only indication, other than a slight wrinkling of her nose that revealed that Brittany was, in fact, joking. The vampire chuckled a little, wondering if all of Brittany's off-handed comments were examples of her wit, or if she genuinely meant some of the things she said.

Brittany used her wrist to slide the door open, revealing a small space containing an uncomfortable-looking bunk that resembled a bench, and a cage at the back containing a bedraggled, chained vampire, head hanging low.

Brittany eyes widened in recognition and she pushed past Santana, rushing to the tiny cage.

"Sam?!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys, and metaphorical cookies for everyone who followed/favourited**

**But metaphorical ice cream for those who reviewed, because reviews are the best things ever.**

**You guys are all awesome**


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to clear up, in this fic Hep V is an actual disease that vampires contract if they drink 'bad' blood, and everyone knows it exists. It's super rare because vampires can smell it, and therefore avoid it, but the LAVTF have been using it to infect and kill the vamps, because they're total twats.**

**Enjoy!**

Sam slowly raised his head, blinking owlishly. His vision was blurred and for a moment he couldn't make out anything but the dull grey of the room he'd been trapped in for the past few hours. A new colour splashed across his vision, and he found himself surrounded by striking gold and piercing blue.

"Wh..wha...?" He rasped. Jesus fuck, he was thirsty. His throat felt like sandpaper, and each breath felt like it was splitting his body in half. Why was he breathing? Why did he feel like the chain around his neck was the only thing keeping him upright? Was he hallucinating? _Why is she here?_

"...and Quinn said I should join the LAVTF 'cause then we could bust you out and-Sam? Sammy, are you okay?" Then the blue was gone and gold was all he could see. When did they move him underwater? Everything was so...slow. "What's wrong with him? Is he gonna be okay? They didn't infect him with Hep V, did they?"

"Why do you give a flying fuck?"

Brittany frowned. That was hardly the answer she was looking for. "He's my best friend, of course I care. Would you please tell me what's wrong with him?" She threw her hands up, exasperated. She hadn't had a wink of sleep in the past 36 hours and it was really starting to catch up with her.

But Santana just narrowed her eyes. "Your best friend? Hate to break it to you kid, but he's a vampire. The spawn of Satan, evil murderers, dirty fucking fangers? Any of this ringing a bell, blondie?"

Brittany scowled. She was the most patient, cheerful, happy-go-lucky person in Bon Temps, and yet this vampire easily pushed her buttons. "I already told you, my name's Brittany. And I don't care that Sam's a vampire, just the same as I don't care that Lord Tubbington's girlfriend is a budgie. I just want to know how to help him." She looked pleadingly at Santana, whose forehead had creased further in her confusion at what the other girl had just said.

"Um, I don't know what half of what you said meant, but Guppy Lips over there'll be just fine in a few hours. He's been silvered pretty bad, though. Right into the bloodstream, by the looks of it, for a couple of hours at least. Quinn's going to flip a shit."

Brittany visibly paled. "Oh, crap." She breathed, running over to her friend. She tugged incessantly on the padlocks holding the cage door shut. "We have to get him out of here! Help me. _Please._" she implored.

Santana was about to reply with a sarcastic, witty retort, but one look in those hypnotic blue eyes and the words died on her lips. She found herself nodding instead, already beside the blonde and snapping the locks with her fingers.

The door swung open, and Sam fell forward until he was jerked back by the chains around his neck. Santana didn't hesitate to snap those too, before carrying Sam's deadweight over to the bunk and gently laying him down.

She stood back as Brittany flew to her friend, and Santana found herself missing the feel of those electric blue eyes burning into her. She shook her head, where were these thoughts coming from? She was Santana motherfucking Lopez, the badass three hundred and twenty seven year old vampire, she didn't feel _fuzzies. _So why the hell were there butterflies in her stomach?

Brittany reached over to try and comfort Sam in anyway she could, but all the ridiculously excessive LAVTF gear was getting in the way. She quickly tugged the helmet and goggles from her head, ripping the heavy jumpsuit off her body, tearing the bulletproof vest, leaving her in a baby blue vest top and boxers covered in cartoon chillies, with the words 'hot stuff' printed over her ass.

Santana was sure that, if it were possible, she would have drooled. As it was, she simply stood there catching flies, marvelling at the form in front of her as the other girl bent over Sam, feeling his forehead.

And for the second time in the space of two minutes, she was surprised for the first time in three centuries. She was feeling fuzzies, and she was speechless.

What the actual fuck?

"Santana?" That perfectly round ass was gone, and Santana felt a surge of disappointment, until her eyes met that ocean blue again, and suddenly she wasn't so disappointed anymore. "Santana, what can I do? How can I help him? I don't know what to d-do." Tears welled up, marring the blue, and Santana couldn't have that.

"Hey Brittany, it's okay, it'll be okay, it's only temporary, he'll be back to his glorious, Lisa Rinna stunt double self in a couple of hours, tops. No worries."

"Really?" Brittany sniffled, resembling a kicked puppy, gazing up at Santana, exuding adorableness. _Ugh, get a grip, Lopez._

Then suddenly she was wrapped up in a tight bear hug.

.

.

Well, that was a new experience.

Santana stood, arms trapped by her side, being squeezed so tightly that she would have passed out by now, had she needed to breathe. Awkward was a gross understatement.

After two ridiculously uncomfortable minutes, Santana was, mercifully, saved by the sound of the door sliding open.

Brittany whirled around, eyes wide, and Santana unsheathed her fangs in preparation for the LAVTF officers, who must surely have realised Brittany wasn't really one of them.

Instead, Quinn glided in, wearing a lab coat and carrying a severed arm.

"Alright." she said authoritatively, brandishing the distasteful object and pointing it at the two girls. Brittany recoiled in horror. "All those boorish brutes have congregated in the room we just vacated. They're in a complete tizzy. Puck will be here in approximately two and a half minutes and then we can make good our escape."

Santana snorted. "Fuck me, Quinnie, it's not the 1800s anymore. Pull that cane out of your ass and speak like the rest of us peasants."

Quinn glared at Santana, but visibly deflated. "Whatever, Satan, it's just, well...you know how I get when I'm stressed." The two shared a tight-lipped smile, and Brittany frowned for a moment, curious, before remembering there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Make good our escape? You mean we're escaping _now?"_

"Well, unless you plan on staying here and getting ripped limb from limb by a bunch of angry vamps that'll put the Avengers to shame, I'd say that's a damn fine idea." Santana quipped.

Brittany decided to ignore the unnecessary sarcasm. "Angry? Why, what's going to happen?"

The lights in the room shut off, plunging them into total darkness. A couple of seconds later the fluorescent lights above them flickered back to life, the alarm started blaring, and screams and bursts of gunfire could be heard from outside the door.

The corner of Santana's lips slanted up into a devious smirk.

"She's here."

* * *

Puck felt a small tugging in his chest and grinned. _Yes! About time. _For the first time in three decades, he was finally getting to see his Maker again.

Feeling that she was nearby, he stopped walking abruptly. The dumbass guard who had been escorting him back to Male Gen Pop 1 walked a few feet ahead before realising he was no longer being followed.

"Hey snipcock, what's the hold up? Get the fuck over here."

Puck's upper lip raised at the unimaginative racial slur. "Whatever you say, _sir."_ He snarled. And in the blink of an eye, he was stood over the slumped body of the guard, holding the bigoted son of a bitch's head in his hand. He raised it to his mouth and poured the last few drops of blood still held in the man's jugular down his throat. "You may be an asshole, but thanks for the best drink in weeks."

The sound of the alarm swarmed up around him and he grimaced, feeling the shrill drone burning down his ear canal and electrifying his brain.

He headed off in the direction of Sol Con Cell 13, more than looking forward to leaving this hellhole behind him forever. _Alright Big Daddy, _he thought to himself, _time to make like a Trojan and split._

* * *

Puck strolled down the corridor, casually observing the carnage going on around him. Everywhere he looked, guards and scientists were in various stages of torture. Just within his peripheral vision, he could see a group of fledglings forcing one guy to drink his own blood._ Haha, nice one guys. A little poetic justice never hurt anybody._

He slowed to a stop outside of the door that he knew contained Sam. They were both good friends-Puck had been there during Sam's rebirth and had helped Quinn out a little with his training in the beginning. Santana still constantly made jokes about him practically being Quinn's baby daddy.

He paused to pull up the nearby body of an LAVTF guard, bared her wrist to the control panel, before dropping her back into her own pool of blood and stepping through the now open door.

He was greeted by the barrel of a rifle poking into his eye.

"Ow! Jesus, fuck, Santana! What the hell?" He cried out, clutching his throbbing eye, glaring at her with his remaining one.

She simply shrugged, dropping the rifle to hang at her side. "Sorry no-balls, can't take any chances when my boy Macaulay Culkin over here's inebriated."

Puck growled at her, but turned his attention to the three blondes to his left. Sam was lying on the bench mumbling incoherently; Quinn was leaning over him, hand to his forehead, whispering softly in an attempt to soothe her progeny and an out-of-uniform LAVTF guard was sitting, leaning against the bench, knees to her chest, arms around her shins.

He snarled immediately, advancing on the slightly shaking girl.

"Easy there tiger, she's a buddy of Sam's." Santana stated, poking him in the eye with the rifle again, halting his progress.

"For fuck's sake Santana! Would you stop doing that! And why the fuck do you care?!"

Santana paused in her eye-jabbing for a second. Why _did_ she care? She didn't care about anyone, definitely not someone she hadn't known for at least half a century. What was going on with her?

"Trouty Mouth's gonna need all the familiar faces he can see when he comes around." Realising how feeble that excuse was, she tried a different tactic. "And Q'll be pissed at you if you tear Sammy Boy's best friend in half."

Puck paled quite visibly at that notion and stepped back from the mysterious blonde. Santana felt a flash of guilt at the fear sparking in Puck's one open eye. She knew how much the vampires felt for one another-despite their less than innocent history, all three of them were exceptionally close, and the idea that something he did could create a genuine rift in the trio, had the Puckasaurus trembling.

Brittany, seeming wholly unaffected by the fact that she had just been saved from a painful death, barely spared a glance to the arguing siblings before her. She just continued to stare dejectedly at the floor.

Santana rolled her eyes. _Usually when I save a girl's life she at _least _licks me out. I mean seriously, when did gratitude die out?_

"Who is this chick then?" Puck stared at her, but his eyes flickered down over the girl's half-visible body and angry glaring morphed into appreciative leering. "And what's her name? Actually don't tell me, I'm gonna introduce myself. She'll have to know my name anyway, since she'll be screaming it later."

Santana glared at him. "Keep it in your pants, _Lola. _We gots bigger fish to fry."

Hurt, Puck looked sadly down at his feet, kicking at the ground with his toes. "You promised you wouldn't mention that ever to anyone."

Santana smirked at the memory of the badass, macho Noah Puckerman in a dress and blonde wig.

Before she could reply, however, Quinn turned to them, standing and smoothing out her blood-splattered lab coat. "If you two are quite finished," she snapped, glaring at them, "we actually have stuff to be doing. We probably have a couple of hours, tops, to get out of here before the government catch wind of what's going on, so we need to get out of her as soon as we can. That's a little more important than discussing Puck's transsexual tendencies, don't you think?"

Mortified, Puck stared at her, blinking rapidly, as if that could help him rewind thirteen years and never agree to let Finn's brother Kurt dress him up. While Finn was the biggest asshole since Vladimir Putin, Kurt was his polar opposite and kind to everyone in every way. That didn't mean Puck would ever forgive him, though.

Santana grinned. "Once we're outta here, we have got to go see Lady Hummel and his new g-"

She was cut off by the sound of an explosion outside the door, the whole room shaking with the strength of it.

"Shit!" Puck cursed. "What is going on out there?" His nose twitched as an acrid stench filled the room. "What the..."

"Oh fuck no..." Quinn stared, eyes shining with new fear at the door before her, being the first to identify the stench.

Brittany, slowly pulling out of her grief-induced stupor, frowned up at the vampires. Fearing Sam was going to die, despite Santana and Quinn's assurances that he'd be fine in a few hours, she had failed to care, or even notice, that Puck had arrived. The constant drone of their voices had been pushed to the back of her mind, but their sudden silence was unexpected enough to shake her from her daze.

"What's wrong?" She sniffled, crinkling her nose at the new, unpleasant tinge to the air. "what is that smell?"

The vampires appeared to have not heard her, despite having better hearing than bats, and continued to stare, horrified, at the door.

Brittany followed there line of site to the hairline crack that the small explosion had created in the door, wondering what all the fuss was about. And then she saw it, slowly seeping through the crack and curling up toward the ceiling. Smoke. Which could mean only one thing.

"Stupid fucking fledglings set the fucking place on fire!" Puck spat, fear colouring his voice.

"Shit just got real." Santana agreed, bending down and arming herself with the severed arm. "Time to get the fuck out of Dodge, huh?"

She opened the door, before leaning against it to prevent it from closing; staring out into the hallway, struggling to make out the blurred shapes of moving people through the haze of smoke that had already filled the corridor.

Puck and Quinn snapped out of their shock. Puck headed out the door, and Quinn swung Sam over her shoulder, before following her friend out of the cell.

"You coming, risa?"

Brittany blinked, realising Santana was staring at her, head tilted to the side, the corner of her mouth tilting upward. Brittany felt a smile pushing through the fog of her addled brain at the adorable sight before her. It quickly turned to a frown. Adorable was not a word anyone anywhere ever in the history of the universe would ever associate with a three hundred year old killing machine. Ever.

Whatever, Brittany never listened to what anyone else said anyways.

She scrambled to her feet and out into the corridor. Her eyes began watering immediately as the acidic smoke burnt her throat. She struggled to hold back a cough as she stood sandwiched between Santana and Puck.

Quinn turned to them all, Sam's feet swinging out and banging into a vampire that was pushing past them to get away. Brittany couldn't help but smile at the sight of the petite Quinn carrying a taller, much more muscular Sam so effortlessly.

"Okay, we said we'd meet up with her outside Female Gen Pop 4, which is..." She swung around, whacking Sam's head audibly of the wall beside her as she did so; Brittany winced for her semi-conscious friend. "that away." She pointed over Puck's shoulder, straight into the origin of the fire.

Puck scratched the back of his neck and sighed loudly. "Guess that's out of the question then. Maybe we'll see her outside?"

"What's the matter, pansy? Scared of a little fire?" Santana goaded him, nudging him with her hip.

Puck scowled at her. "Of course not! But you know there's like...loads of fire over there. And I really don't want to die just yet, y'know? I mean I'm so young!"

"You're two hundred and eighty six years old!"

"Exactly! I'm not even three hundred! It would be an absolute travesty if I died."

"Travesty? That's a big, fancy word Sad Sack, who taught you that one?"

As the pair bickered, Brittany felt her throat slowly constricting more and more with each inhale; she was soon doubled over in her efforts to cough the smoke out, to clear her lungs, but it just wouldn't go. Fear set in, and Brittany began to panic internally (being too preoccupied with choking to show it on the outside).

"Hey! What the hell is the matter with you two?" Quinn snarled, red with anger, marching toward the siblings. "In case you hadn't noticed, _the building is on fire. _I'm with Puck, I really don't feel like dying today, and look at poor Britt, she cannot breathe, because we are _surrounded _by smoke. Now would you two dumbasses please get the fuck over yourselves so we can leave?!"

Startled by Quinn's sudden and surprisingly vulgar outburst, the pair looked around, as though taking note of their environment for the first time, before looking at the floor, slightly ashamed. Had Brittany been capable of thinking coherently, she would have reasoned that they closely resembled two suitably chastised puppies.

Santana turned to her suddenly, before unexpectedly swinging her into her arms to carry her, bridal style. Brittany let out a small, undignified squeak of shock, which she hoped was smothered by the following coughs.

"Stretchmarks has got a point." She said simply, with a firm nod of her head. "The shit has hit the fan-we really ain't got time to stand around." With that she stormed off down the corridor and, mercifully, away from the intense heat of the flames.

Brittany's coughing gradually calmed as Santana led them down the corridor. "Wh-where are we going now?" She rasped painfully.

Santana glanced down at her, concern creasing her brow. "Maybe it's best if you don't talk for a while, yeah? And we're headed to the exit." She squinted a little, struggling to see through the haze of smoke all around her. "Which I'm pretty sure is around here, somewhere."

Quinn and Puck fell in step on either side of them.

"What are you going so slow for? Fire not spreading fast enough for you?" Said Puck, glowering, still slightly pissed off from their earlier exchange.

Feeling inexplicably defensive, Santana scowled. "No, Fuckerman, I just didn't want to make Brittany any worse. I mean, that smoke's really fucked with her lungs."

Unsure of whether to feel happy that she was such a cause for concern of the vampire, or to feel offended that she seemed to think Brittany was so very delicate that she couldn't handle a little smoke-exposure, she decided to settle on being startled by Santana being so attentive toward her well-being.

Apparently this sentiment was shared by the other vampires in the immediate vicinity, with both Puck and Quinn sporting identical expressions of bewilderment. Even a random vampire pushing past them, the limp body of an LAVTF guard dragging behind him, spared Santana a shocked glance.

Her scowl impossibly deepened. "What? I can be considerate sometimes, you know."

Quinn's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "No you can't, what's the matter with you? All the smoke gone to your head?"

Puck shook his head slowly, hand running through his mohawk tentatively in thought. "No, it can't be that-she was a bitch to me before and we were surrounded by more smoke then. She's just being nice with that hot chick."

Brittany blushed slightly at the compliment, and felt Santana stiffen slightly beneath her cheek.

"'That hot chick' has a name," she growled, feeling oddly protective of the blonde she was holding (who, let's face it, felt really, _really _good in her arms). "It's Brittany."

If possible, Puck and Quinn looked both astonished and incredulous at the same time. Brittany suppressed a giggle at the weird expression the two emotions painted on their faces.

"What? Maybe it fucking pisses me off how Puck objectifies _every _woman_, all _of the time!"

"You've known him his entire existence...and now it pisses you off?" Asked Quinn, eyebrows raising sceptically.

There was a tense and awkward silence, while Santana struggled to come up with an excuse. It was broken only by the sound of distant screams and Sam's incoherent mumblings.

Feeling as though if someone had to break the tension, it may as well be the cause behind it, Brittany piped up. "Did you know, dolphins are just gay sharks?"

It seemed Brittany had achieved the impossible, by increasing the awkwardness of the whole situation. Only now it was ten times worse; with all three vampires staring at her disbelievingly.

She gulped and nuzzled into Santana's chest wishing that the ground would swallow her up. Or, preferably, someone would come and save her from the painful scrutiny.

"Hola, chicos!" Came a cheerful voice from in front of them. Brittany sent up a quick prayer of thanks. "Did you miss me?"

**Sorry for the wait guys, hope this was okay. Just to clear up I do not hate Finn, I just needed a kind-of bad guy to Make Quinn.**

**Also anything racist/sexist/homophobic or generally bigoted in anyway in this fanfic is not my personal opinion. It's purely there for plot. Open-mindedness for the win! But I did mean that bit about Putin being an asshole. He sucks major balls.**

**To the guest who reviewed, Mona, thanks so much that was seriously the best review ever :) I think Britt's gonna be more of a hindrance than a help in their escape bless her, and if you like this you might want to check out 'First Bite' by Lingering Lilies. It's in the True Blood 'verse and is really awesome.**

**Thanks for reading, all mistakes are my own, and review if you feel like it. Those things make my day :D**


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